


welcome to the gun show

by queerio_gaymer



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/F, I want bi Cora so bad, Pre-Andromeda, i've never written 'flex' so many times, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerio_gaymer/pseuds/queerio_gaymer
Summary: “Yeah,” Scott drawled, sighing dramatically, stretching. “I guess if I were you, I’d be intimidated by these bad boys, too.”Cora crossed her arms. The remark was a bait, and if it wasn’t then Scott’s sly glance her way most definitely was. And yet.“One match,” Cora said, striding over and sitting across from him.///In which Scott and Cora arm wrestle, and Sara is an appreciative onlooker.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ARE YOU ALL ON THE ME:A HYPE TRAIN CUZ ALL.A.BOARRRRD
> 
> ...
> 
> Just a quick one-shot. Featuring Scott as the lovable asshole brother & teammate, and Sara as the snarky gay nerd.

It had been a long day of training, which was exactly what Cora was going to blame this on in the morning.

 

The four of them - Cora, Liam, Scott, and Sara - were in Hyperion’s mess hall, because Scott had insisted on what was by now nearing a midnight snack. It was a week from launch, when they would all become cryo popsicles for centuries, and the infectious anticipatory adrenaline made it hard to sleep. Scott, in particular, seemed affected by it - ever since they’d passed the T-minus two weeks mark, he’d been brimming with energy, practically bouncing off the walls.

 

Which probably helped explain why, at 11:22 at night, he was challenging Liam to an arm wrestling match. Lounging back in one of the chairs, he flexed his arms before folding his hands behind his head with a goading smirk.

 

Sara snorted from where she was perched on the edge of the kitchenette counter, rolling her eyes from behind her mug of tea. “Don’t hurt yourself, baby brother,” she said dryly (she often called her twin that, though Cora was still unsure which of the two was actually the elder sibling, if it really mattered).

 

“Aw, come on, Sara. Don’t shoot down the gun show,” Scott quipped, and his smirk cracked into a grin at his own joke.

 

Sara quirked a brow. “Gun show? You’re sporting slingshots at best,” she deadpanned, taking a sip of her drink.

 

Cora chuckled, and Sara’s gaze slid over to her to her. The brunette shot her a lopsided little smile. Cora’s first reaction was to think __cute__ , and her second reaction was to blame the first on how late it was.

 

“I, uh, I think I’m good,” Liam said, running a hand through his hair with a placating grin.

 

Scott, whose eyes had drifted back and forth between his sister and Cora, shrugged. “Yeah,” he drawled, sighing dramatically, stretching. “I guess if I were you all, I’d be intimidated by these bad boys, too.”

 

Cora crossed her arms. The remark was a bait, and if it wasn’t then Scott’s sly glance her way most definitely was. And yet.

 

“One match,” Cora said, striding over and sitting across from him.

 

“Winner gets bragging rights.” Scott’s eyes locked with hers, twinkling with something Cora recognized as trouble. “And the fawning adoration of the crowd, of course.” He swept an arm towards both Liam and Sara, but aimed a teasing smirk at Cora. Scott was a perceptive little smartass, Cora decided, and he was going down.

 

Cora narrowed her eyes at him, but it was Sara who spoke first. “Just get your arm up already, Scott.”

 

Scott’s smirk grew. “Geez, eager much, sis?” he grumbled, but did as told.

 

Cora mirrored him, gripping his hand in hers. “Countdown, Liam?” she asked, eyes not leaving Scott’s.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Liam sounded torn between exasperation and amusement. “From three.”

 

Cora flexed her biceps, squeezing the Ryder twin’s hand. __Show off,__ Scott mouthed at her.

 

“Three, two…” Liam hesitated, drawing out the count. “One!”

 

Scott was strong. It was something he prided himself on, if the hours spent in the weight room were anything to go by. But Cora was disciplined, determined - and she hated losing. For a long moment, they were locked in a stalemate. Cora grit her teeth, the muscles in her arm straining. Scott, for his part, didn’t seem surprised by her strength, his face settling into a mask of resoluteness. They wavered, back and forth, trying to gain ground. Finally, Scott starting pushing her arm down, and Cora, in a last stand of stubborn resolve, summoned every last reserve of strength she had.

 

Scott’s arm hit the table with a muted thud that still somehow managed to sound loud in the silent room.

 

“Daamn,” Liam whistled. “We have ourselves a champ!”

 

Cora stood, leaning one arm on the table and flexing the other. “Now that,” she said with a triumphant smirk, “is how you put on a gun show.”

 

And it was most certainly a sophomoric stunt fueled by Cora’s competitive streak and her tiredness chipping away at her better judgment.

 

But.

 

But seeing Sara’s eyes cut away from where they’d been glued to Cora’s biceps, seeing the faint flush on Sara’s cheeks -

 

It had been worth it.


End file.
